Page 105 of Choosing Us

I nod. How could I forget? My parents still think I did that on purpose, but when Mason looked into it, the trail led to a random offshore account that wasn’t even in my name. There was no logical explanation for what happened. I should have asked Sophia to look into it, but I forgot.

“They had a second transaction. Two days ago, that account bought an abandoned warehouse that is the exact address where we are headed.”

“It’s him. He’s not only The Carnation Killer, but he abducted Ryan when your engagement triggered him and blew up whatever fantasy he has in his head about you,” Walker growls, and surprisingly, I wish I could growl right now.

I am fucking pissed off.

I thought this guy was a colleague, a friendly resource to be a sounding board, but instead, he was tainting beautiful moments and important milestones in my life by killing innocent women. And why? Because I turned him down years ago? Because I was in the room and kind to him when the police informed him of his mother’s death? I don’t care about the emotional transference that may have occurred in that moment. It’s possible I somehow remind him of his mother, and he has some Oedipus complex that’s distorted the attachment with his mother and his relationship with me.

But right now, I don’t care about any of that.

The only thing that matters today is bringing Ryan home safely.

The FBI tactical team is already in place when we roll up two blocks away.

Walker announces into his mic, “Approaching from the east. Strike team’s set.” We quickly move, silent but ready for whatever is on the other side of the door.

“East side door access ready for your entry. Heat signatures from overhead drone indicate individuals in the northwest corner. Unable to verify what level due to concrete walls, but the building plans say there are four floors,” someone from the tactical unit says over the comms.

“Copy that. We’ll make entry then sweep the building. Expect the suspect to be armed and holding a Caucasian thirty-nine-year-old male with brown hair hostage.” Walker’s voice is firm but as quiet as possible as we approach the building. The tactical team enters first, and we quickly confirm that the first floor is clear, just as we hear from their command that the suspect is on the second floor.

“Harlow, I—” Walker is going to give me some kind of pep talk or warning, but I don’t really want either of them.

“I know, Walker. I’m good. Let’s go.” He gives me a decisive nod, and we make our way up the stairs. The building is old, dirty, and the wet smell of stale air hangs from the damp ceilings. The space is filled with metal shelving units that are between thirty and forty feet tall, but most of the rusty shelves are bare, except for a few boxes scattered amongst them. They provide some—but not very good—coverage.

“That’s far enough,” Graham’s voice calls out from somewhere on the floor further down the aisle. “I don’t know who hacked the cameras, but good job on the silent entry, you almost had me.”

We continue to make our approach, creeping along the abandoned shelving units. Thankfully, there are more boxes on the shelves the further we go, until Tara and I reach the end of the row.

“I’m assuming you’re here, right, Harlow? You have to be, of course, you’re here. Of course, you came for me, my love.” Graham’s jubilant tone is even more alarming to me once I have him in my sight. He is gripping a knife against Ryan’s throat, holding him up with the other hand. Ryan’s arms are behind his back at an unnatural angle—his hands are likely restrained, or my fiancé would be demonstrating some of his own martial art skills right now. Ryan’s upper lip is bleeding, and he has some bruising on his face, but he looks otherwise okay.

I also don’t see any significant bleeding. That wouldn’t match Graham’s previous behavior, but he has deviated from his ritual so extraordinarily that anything is possible right now, and that is terrifying.

Walker and Kelly had moved to approach him from a few aisles down, so I take a calculated risk—because if anyone is going to distract Graham, it will be me.

I take a step away from behind the shelving unit with my gun trained on Graham’s head.

“Now, now, is that anyway to say hello? The gun feels quite abrasive, don’t you think? Let’s put that away and we can have a civilized conversation.” Graham is standing in front of a doorway which we know leads to a storage room along the back wall, but there’s no way for us to get into the room and approach from behind him completely. There is at least twenty feet between us, creating enough of a distance, but it still limits my options for disarming and apprehending him.

Graham takes a few steps toward me. His gaze and attention are completely focused on me—while keeping that knife at Ryan’s throat. Even Graham’s gaze is suffocating, but I want his eyes on me. I see Walker out of the corner of my eye, and with a few additional steps toward me, Graham unknowingly put Walker and Kelly slightly behind him, still hidden by the rows of shelves.

But I’m closer, and I’m taking a few slow steps to reduce the gap as much as I can without spooking the suspect.

The man I knew and respected as a colleague is completely absorbed in his own delusion right now.

I raise my hands and play along. “Okay, fair. I’ll set my weapon down if you do the same, Graham.”

He shakes his head with a bark of laughter as though I told a joke. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work for me, Harlow. I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”

A man like Graham is going to be overcome with his narcissistic need to be in control and to be seen as the best in everything. I need to crack that façade and get him to move away from Ryan.

“I’m sure you can manage. Why don’t you come over here, and you and I can have a chat? In fact, why don’t you let Ryan go, and I’ll take his place, and we⁠—”

“No!” Ryan yells out, interrupting me.

“Shut up! This doesn’t concern you. You are done stealing her attention and what’s mine!” he yells at Ryan as he throws him down on the ground, and I wince as Graham kicks him with a stomp to his ribs. Ryan landed in the direction of where Walker and Kelly were, which forced them to move back into the shadows.

“Hey, look at me. Graham? Talk to me, okay?” My voice is steady, but my heart is pounding. I need my voice to stay calm and in control of the situation despite the primal urge to run and protect Ryan.